Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet (Charley Davidson)

12

When I want your opinion,

I’ll remove the duct tape.

—T-SHIRT

After dry-heaving in front of God and beast alike, I started toward my apartment building on the next block, then remembered I’d left Misery at Pari’s. I had to stop and lean against something every so often. My hands and knees shook. Even my elbows shook. And quite possibly my hair follicles. Bile slipped up my throat, and I swallowed it down in several quick gulps. Trying to calm myself. Trying to collect my wits and focus.

The moment his name came to mind, Angel appeared. He glanced around and then glared at me from underneath his bandanna. “How are you doing that? And why are you blue?”

I sipped on the cool air before asking, “Where is he?”

I didn’t have to clarify. Angel knew exactly whom I was talking about, and if anyone would know where Reyes was, it was him. He’d been keeping tabs on him ever since the son of public enemy number one got out of prison. I knew it and I knew why. Angel was hoping Reyes would keep his distance, would stay away from me. Not that he told me that outright, but I knew enough about Angel’s feelings toward Reyes to know exactly why he would keep tabs on someone he was so afraid of.

He kicked the rocks at his feet. “Why?” he asked, his disappointment evident.

“Because if you don’t tell me, your mother will never see another penny.”

His expression held a hint of resentment, but I couldn’t help that now. “He’s at the Paladin Lodge down the street.”

I straightened in surprise. “A hotel? I thought he was living with Elaine Oake.”

“Look, you asked. I told. I have no idea where he’s living. But right now, he’s at that hotel.”

Fair enough. “Room?”

“One thirty-one.”

“Thank you.”

I dismissed him and started for Misery.

I parked several spaces down from number 131 and hoofed it to Reyes’s room. The hotel wasn’t horrible. Especially for one that rented by the hour. I’d been to worse. On a scale of one to five, I’d give it a two-ish, but at least there were no blatant drug deals going down in the parking lot. Always a good sign.

When I got to the room, the door stood ajar just enough for a stream of eve ning light to slash across worn, dark carpet. I drew Margaret and held her with both hands, barrel pointed to the ground. Like in the movies. If I could actually hit something when I shot, I’d have felt safer, but at least I looked cool.

“Reyes?” I asked, peeking inside.

When I didn’t get an answer, I nudged the door open with Margaret’s barrel, an act that only sounded naughty. A ray of light revealed a boot propped on a small table by a kitchenette. I recognized Reyes’s signature style instantly. His boots were a combination of ropers and street cycle, and I coveted them horridly.

After glancing around for any other occupants, I stepped cautiously inside. He sat ensconced in shadows, so I couldn’t see his facial expression to gauge his mood. The only sentiment wafting off him was pain. Beside his boot on the table sat a bottle of whiskey and a roll of duct tape. That meant only one thing: He was hurt and probably hurt bad. Duct tape was Reyes’s answer to stitches. And surgery. He healed so fast—we both did—that we rarely needed to go to extreme lengths to recover. The exception for me was when Earl Walker had taken a knife to me. The exception for Reyes was when a group of demons had gotten ahold of his physical body while his incorporeal one had been away. And it was a big group. Over two hundred, if I had to guess.

He didn’t move when I repositioned the door where he had it. His heat drifted around me, warming me, calming me. I was still shaking when I’d parked, but his heat was like a salve for my nerves.

“Nice room,” I said, glancing around.

The whiskey bottle was half empty, and I wondered if he’d drunk it or used it as an antiseptic on his wounds. Probably a little of both.

“I thought you were staying with Elaine.”

He spoke at last. “I thought we agreed you’d stay in your apartment.”

“You agreed,” I said, lifting a notepad to inspect it. I couldn’t read the writing. “With yourself apparently, because I remember refusing to.”

A black jacket lay tossed over a chair, and take-out containers filled the trash cans. At least he’d been eating.

“Did she kick you out?” I asked.

“She served her purpose.”

Surprised, I asked, “And what purpose would that be?”

“She had connections. I needed those connections to get a trainer for the fights. I couldn’t get in otherwise.”

The fact that he was just using her should have horrified me, but elation swept through me with the knowledge. “So you just tossed her aside and moved into a seedy hotel?”

“Something like that.”

I picked at receipts and other notes scattered on the dresser. “I’ve seen her house. I’m not sure you made a wise decision.”

“Why are you here, Dutch?”

His brusqueness pricked. He was really having issues with me lately. One minute he wanted to pull me into his arms, and the next he wanted me out of his sight. Fine, I’d give him the message and leave him to it. I holstered Margaret and said, “Hedeshi says hello.”

Every emotion in him fled instantly, like he was a roiling ocean growing completely calm in a matter of seconds.

After a long, drawn-out silence, he asked, “Did he hurt you?”

“No. We had a very nice conversation, in fact. And he helped me win a year’s supply of sweet rolls, but I gave it to Iggy.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh, you know, he talked about the boys back home, the fact that he wanted to rip out my jugular and drink my blood, your father’s plan to take over the world.”

He looked to the side in thought. “I knew there had to be someone behind this. It’s too organized. Too well thought out.”

“Well, he wants you to know if you’ll stop hunting them, they’ll leave me alone, allow me to die of natural causes.” I scoffed. “Like that’s going to happen.”

I saw him clench and unclench his fists. “They’re liars, Dutch. Each and every one. They would lie when the truth would sound better. They have no intention of leaving you alone, no matter what I do.” He took the bottle, and just before downing a swig, he said, “They want you more than they want their next breath.”

“I figured as much, but why didn’t he just kill me then? Why go through all the theatrics?”

“Hedeshi isn’t stupid,” he said after putting the bottle back. “He knows he can’t fight your guardian. He has no defense against her. The moment he attacked, she would have been on him, and he knew it. They will have to attack in a group to get past Artemis.” His lips softened as he examined me. “He upset you.” It wouldn’t have been hard for him to pick up on that. Probably the minute I drove into the parking lot.

“Only a little.” When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “You’ve been hunting them? Is that who hurt you?”

He examined his bandages. “They’re very strong.”

“I could tell. You broke that man’s neck, and he still came after me.” I ran my fingers along the chipped edge of the dresser I was leaning against. “How is that possible?”

“As long as they’re inside, they make the human body almost indestructible. Once they vacate that body, it will die if it has been mortally wounded.”

The last time demons had escaped onto this plane, there were hundreds of them. There was no way Reyes could fight them all, even with Artemis’s help. “Do you know how many are here?”

“Not many,” he said with a shrug. “And there aren’t that many people who are genuinely clairvoyant.”

“So, you know who they’re targeting?”

“Yes.”

“And, what? You’re going to kill them all?”

He raked his fingers through his hair, exasperated. “To stop a war between heaven and hell from spilling out into this world? Yes.”

He had a point, but still. “Reyes, you can’t kill these people.”

“I just need to kill the demons inside, but sometimes the human has to be sacrificed to obtain that goal.”

“Well, then stop.” I pulled a chair out across from him and sat down. My eyes were adjusting and I could just make out the sensual line of his lips, the fringe of his thick lashes, the frame of mussed hair. His wide shoulders were bare, and duct tape shimmered over one of them and across his abdomen. No bandages. No gauze. Just duct tape. How sanitary could that be? “You can’t kill innocent people.”

“That man last night wasn’t innocent, if it makes you feel better.”

“Sadly,” I said, curious about what the man had done, “it does, but only a little.” I rubbed my arms, still fighting off the effects of my encounter with the Englishman. “What happened?” I asked, nodding toward the tape.

He took the bottle of whiskey again and downed about a third of what was left before replacing the cap. “I was mugged,” he said after wiping his mouth on the back of a hand.

As he’d said before, it was doubtful a human could do that to him, but I dropped it. He was never one to share with the class anyway.

He lifted a gray T-shirt off the back of another chair and pulled it on with great care. When he settled back, it took a lot for me not to sigh aloud. He looked really good in gray.

“I thought it was almost impossible for demons to get onto this plane.”

“It is. These are left over from our last encounter.”

A jolt of surprise shot through me. “You mean from when they had you in that basement?” I had destroyed them then. The light inside me proved a powerful weapon. “There were more?”

“They’re like cockroaches. Once they escape onto this plane, they can hide for centuries as long as they stay out of the light.”

He’d told me before, they’d been banished from the sun when his father was cast from the heavens. It was now lethal to them.

“They weren’t all in that basement, but most of them were. Still, this is organized. Way more organized than anything the lesser brethren would be capable of. I’m not surprised Hedeshi is behind it. He was always such a suck-up.”

I was hoping to get more answers before he went gallivanting onto the battlefield, hunting down the suck-up. This was a rare opportunity. Having Reyes Farrow all to myself without someone trying to kill us, or without women standing around gawking. Well, other women standing around gawking. I didn’t count.

“What am I capable of?” I asked, changing the subject again.

He filled his lungs to capacity and accepted my query with grace. “Only you can know that.”

The room grew darker by the minute with the setting sun. I stood and leaned toward him until I could smell the earthy essence he’d been born with. Like a lightning storm in a dessert desperate for rain. “I want to know, Reyes. You keep telling me I’m capable of so much more. I want to know what.”

His eyes shimmered with interest. “I’m not lying. I don’t know.”

I took the bottle and shoved away from the table so I could rinse the taste of bile out of the back of my mouth. After taking a swig of a liquid acidic enough to melt the paint off a Chevy, I swished it around, then swallowed. My eyes watered as it seared my already raw throat; then I handed the bottle back and strode to look out the window. I had to ease the thick curtains aside to see onto Central as rush hour traffic came to a head in the eve ning gloam.

“Every reaper is different in physical form,” Reyes said. “And most never fully come into their powers.”

I turned back to him, so thirsty for information, I was not above begging. “What do you mean? How many of us are there?”

“Not as many as you might think.”

The room had grown even darker, so I reached over and turned on a lamp. It helped, but Reyes still sat in shadows.

I eased back into the chair and waited as he took another drink from the bottle and I realized then that he was still bleeding. Dark spots were seeping through the T-shirt. I tried to tamp down my alarm.

“You’re not really called reapers on the other planes,” he said, placing the bottle carefully back on the table. “That’s a human reference.”

“Wait, other planes? How many planes are there?” I asked, surprised by his word choice.

“How many galaxies are there in the universe? How many stars? It’s hard to know exactly. Suffice it to say, many.”

“I—I had no idea.”

“Not many do. And in answer to your question, there is a new reaper born on this plane every few hundred years. There’s no set time, really.”

I stilled. “But you told me before, you’d been waiting for me. That every time a new reaper was sent, you were disappointed because it wasn’t me. How long have you been here?”

He frowned in thought. “I’m not sure exactly. Maybe fifteen centuries.”

Stunned, I asked, “What the heck were you doing all that time?”

He studied me. “Waiting.”

For me. That Englishman said he’d been sent for me. Was he telling me the truth? Did Reyes’s father send him for me specifically?

“So a new reaper is born every few hundred years. Are they immortal or something?”

“No. Not their physical bodies. Most don’t live more than a few years, in fact.”

“Why?”

He considered me a minute, then said, “Think about your childhood, Dutch. What it was like growing up with your abilities.”

Memories flooded my cerebral cortex instantly. My stepmother’s horror. The loss of good friends once I tried to tell them who I was. What I was. The distractions in class when departed showed up, which often ended with me going to the principal’s office.

“Now think about having those abilities in a world teeming with superstition and fear. Many were killed as children. Of those who weren’t, most became hermits. They were shunned by their own people, never fully accepted. You are truly the first of your kind who has thrived among them.”

I didn’t know what to say. “What happens when we die?”

“You have to understand, your body is the anchor for the portal. It’s the part that got you onto this plane.”

“But if my body is gone, what happens? Will I still be the portal?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “You were a portal long before you ever took human form.”

“So, if—when I die, I’ll still be the grim reaper?”

“Once your body ceases to exist, you become powerful a hundred times over, but you’ll also change. You won’t have that human connection, and every reaper changes over time. They lose their sense of humanity, though some didn’t have that much to lose in the first place. Humans were not kind to them.”

“If that’s the case, why did you try to let your body die?”

He leaned his head to the side. “Back to that?” When I shrugged, he said, “Because it was the draw, Dutch. The bait they could have hooked you with. And they succeeded, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“But they could’ve taken you. Once your corporeal body passed, they could’ve taken you, right?”

His mouth curved knowingly. “They would’ve had to catch me first.”

“The Englishman made it sound like it would be easy to track you down, because of your tattoos, the key.”

“The Englishman?”

“Hedeshi. He’s in the body of an Englishman.”

“Ah. Well, there are ways around that as well.”

Certain he wouldn’t tell me what those ways were, I kept on track. I was actually getting somewhere for the first time in forever.

I shifted in my chair, leaned forward in enthusiasm. “Okay, so, if I’ll become that much more powerful, what am I capable of while still alive?”

“I wish I knew. It’s hard to know for certain. Like I said, most of your kind don’t live long.”

“But you’ve told me repeatedly I’m capable of more.”

“And you are. That doesn’t mean I know exactly what.”

I decided to reword my question. “I’ve been told twice now that I am capable of anything I can imagine.”

“That’s true.”

Well, this wasn’t frustrating at all. “I can imagine a lot,” I said, challenging him. “So, can I shoot fireballs from my hands, because I can totally see myself doing that.”

The look he offered me was full of both humor and affection. “No.”

“Then I’ve been lied to.” I copied him and tossed a foot onto the table. Denise would be horrified.

“Who told you this?” he asked.

“The Englishman, for one, and Sister Mary Elizabeth, for another.”

“And she lies to you often?”

“No,” I said, frowning defensively.

“She did not say you could do anything you can imagine. She said you are capable of anything you can imagine. Not the act, Dutch, but the consequence.”

“I don’t understand the difference,” I said, feeling thick.

“Think about it. If you could shoot balls of fire from your hands,” he said, pausing to laugh, “what would happen?”

I looked away from him in disgust. “I don’t know. I could make a car explode, maybe.”

“Then that is what you are capable of. The consequence, Dutch. The result.”

His meaning started to take root in my mind, muddled as it was. “So, if I wanted to blow up a car, I could do it, I just couldn’t do it throwing fireballs from my hands.” I squinted, tried to get a firm grip on his meaning, lost it, clawed to get it back, let it slip, gave up with a heave of resignation. “Nope, I don’t get it. But the bottom line is, if I can imagine it, I can do it, right? So, I can kill people with my mind?”

“If you believe you could live with yourself afterwards, sure.”

“That’s a good point. Can you kill people with your mind?”

A soft grin spread across his face. “Only if my mind tells my hands to carry out its orders.”

The smile that I felt widen had to look as diabolical as I felt. “So, I can do more than you can?”

“You always could.”

I hadn’t gotten this many answers from Reyes in, well, never. I decided to tease him a bit. “You still owe me a million dollars.”

“Take off your clothes.”

“No.”

“I’ll give you a million dollars to take off your clothes.”

“Okay.” I lifted my sweater, then paused. Pulling it back down, I said, “I thought you didn’t have any money.”

“I don’t. But you can still take that off.”

“I have more questions,” I said, ignoring him.

“I’d have more answers if you’d take that off.”

I got the feeling the only reason he wasn’t closer to me, running his fingers up this sweater himself, was because of his injuries. They must be really bad. “I have to tell you about Garrett.”

“I’m breathless with anticipation.”

“He went to hell.” When Reyes didn’t comment, I said, “He met your dad.”

He turned the bottle on the table until he could read the label. “Dad doesn’t usually entertain visitors.”

“He made an exception. He showed Garrett what you were like growing up. Serving in his army. Rising through the ranks. He said your father showed him what you did.”

“My father showed him all this? The greatest liar the universe has ever known?”

“Are you saying what he saw wasn’t true? It didn’t really happen?”

After a thoughtful pause, he said, “I was a general in hell, Dutch. What do you suppose that entailed?”

I dropped my gaze to the matted carpet. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“So you can hate me even more?”

I looked up in surprise. “I don’t hate you.”

His jaw flexed in reaction. “There is a fine line between love and hate, or haven’t you heard? Sometimes it’s hard to decipher exactly which emotion is strongest.”

I raised my chin. “I don’t love you either.”

He lowered his head and watched me from underneath his dark lashes. “Are you certain? Because the emotion pouring out of you every time I’m near you is certainly not disinterest.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s love.”

“It could be, I promise you. Take off that sweater and give me ten minutes, and you’ll believe beyond a shadow of a doubt you’re in love.”